


wonders between your lips

by putarrilla



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putarrilla/pseuds/putarrilla
Summary: Had you known this was to be where you would end, perhaps you'd have made wiser choices. You are not sure, in the seconds in between her labored breaths, whether those wiser choices would encompass being kinder and taking that first step sooner or not allowing her in to begin with.or the one where a magical queen who lost her powers falls for a human who is kind and brave, but now one of them is dying.General Danvers & Supercat Week - Day 2: Against the odds.
Relationships: Astra/Alex Danvers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28
Collections: General Danvers & Supercat Week 5





	wonders between your lips

**Author's Note:**

> so... fairytale AU, anyone?

Had you known this was to be where you would end, perhaps you'd have made wiser choices. You are not sure, in the seconds in between her labored breaths, whether those wiser choices would encompass being kinder and taking that first step sooner or not allowing her in to begin with.

There’s a single droplet of blood by the corner of her mouth and you wonder if she can feel it, if she can feel your thumb as you clean it away. Her eyes don't inform you one way or another.

Kara, sweet and far too young to witness this, stands guard in a corner in case of any rogue enemy unsatisfied with defeat, and softly cries. Her sword, still dirty from the battlefield, does not waver.

The woman resting her head on your thighs gasps louder than before, either startled by her lack of oxygen or her imminent doom. You run your fingers through the sweat-drenched locks, a soft shush falling from your lips.

“You are okay, my love, you are safe now, I am here.”

There’s no sign that she hears you besides the return of her breathing to its unsteady rhythm.

It seems like only days ago that you’d married, she in a brand new armor, you in a navy blue gown embroidered with silver threads made from your old one. She’d looked dashing, hair in a braided bun, one or two stems of baby’s breath entangled in her locks. Your heart had swollen when she’d laid her palms on your waist and you’d never thought you’d feel something so genuinely pure be born within you again, nothing that could come close to the amount of love for your niece, but the moment she kissed you, there was no doubt left that she was yours and you were hers.

The first time you’d ever laid eyes on her is engrained on your mind like your family crest on the iron plate currently protecting your chest.

A feisty woman with enough talent behind her swordsmanship to justify it, she’d just bested one of the senior knights, a smile adorning her face from cheek to cheek as she extended a palm to help him up. You’d met her gaze then, and your breath had caught in your lungs.

You’d observed her for days afterwards, seeing her winning training duel after training duel, and also noting her cockiness, noting the openings in her guard she did not see, but that an experienced warrior would not fail to attack. She had so much potential it’d mystified you.

The first time you asked her superior to transfer her to your personal battalion, he’d quirked a brow, wondered if you were sure you wanted the responsibility, even though he too saw her abilities. The second time you asked, he granted your wish.

She never doubted you, doing whatever you told her to, but she always asked for reasons. It took her three months to perfect her stance. It took her precisely that long to win your heart.

You, of course, never mentioned it. You were meant for the battlefield and you were prepared to lay your life there.

“I have no wish to die.” She’d said around a campfire once, every other soldier except for the two of you fast asleep. “I know it is an ever present risk in this kind of profession, but I wish to protect the kingdom and enjoy it as well.”

You’d never tried to imagine a future for yourself before then. It’d become increasingly clear that, whatever said future was, you wanted her by your side.

The first war had been won with your father’s sacrifice. The great leader of Krypton, the land of mystical powers, had drained himself to ensure his people’s freedom. He told you, with the last wisp of his strength, to lead with honor.

You’d hated him then and you’ll carry the guilt of that feeling for the rest of your existence.

As _she_ had no wish to die, you had no wish to reign.

“Our father was smart, sister. He knew, as I know, that you can steadily guide us into brighter days.” Alura had touched your arm softly, tears marking her cheeks, a convoluted expression on her face. “Your powers will impose respect and your decisions will inspire growth. You are the right choice.”

“I cannot do it alone.” You’d said, so you split the post like you split in your mother’s womb. You’d gained the title, the army and the forefront of attention. Alura had settled behind the council, making sure the bitter old crows, never loyal to your father, always quick to jump into rashness, didn’t make it so you’d have yet another war to fight so soon.

You’d made _her_ head of your army.

“There are senior knights more worthy than I, ma’am.”

“You might have forgotten of your doings in the battlefield, Alexandra of Midvale, but I have not. There is not a swordsman worth their shield who would doubt your merit.”

She’d smiled. Your heartstrings had tugged.

Fighting by her side had been your honor and privilege, and if you closed your eyes, she had been the only face remotely comforting as your father had laid dying.

The second war had begun with Sammuel Lane trying to force your sister into marriage after Zor-El’s passing. You will never forget encountering his hand buried in Alura’s hair, his mouth down in a sneer as he’d whispered something cruel. You will never forget how your gifts had taken control of your body, pushing out through the tips of your fingers, wrapping around his forearm and _pulling_.

The crack of his elbow had been the hornet signaling the battles to come.

Your army had been ready, your army was always ready, and you’d been side by side with Alexandra.

Ever so slowly, you’d made your way through your opponent, leaving injured and dead in your path. Neither of you raveled in deaths, but needs must to finish a battle.

No one had ever considered the witch.

Alex had seen him first, standing by the side, unmoving, eyes fixed on you. She’d tried to warn you, but before she could ever make a sound, he’d whipped you down and set half your men on fire.

The details are foggy to this day, but seeing your army burn had set off your powers once more.

“Your eyes glowed green and his red.” Alexandra told you later, your hands cradled in her own. “You fought harder than I’ve ever seen. The moment he died, you fell down as well, motionless and I-” She’d squeezed your palms, voice catching. You’d wanted to hold her then, but you'd felt too empty to move.

The second war was barely won with the sacrifice of your powers and thousands of good men. You never felt quite adequate again.

A magical queen with nothing left to show for it, you were scared of your actions and disappointed at the hollow space in your chest where your magic once sat.

You were only able to speak to three living beings: your sister, your dear niece and Alexandra of Midvale. They strived to pull you back from the in-between that losing part of yourself had pushed you to. Ever so gently, they succeeded. 

Together, you and Alura made the decision to keep your faded powers hidden, afraid the knowledge of their disappearance would encourage other realms to try their luck now that your armed-forces were depleted.

Your mind wandered sometimes, leaving you in a state of stillness. Alex sat by your side whenever that happened. You do not recall when she’d started telling you about her own life, but soon nothing else except the melody of her voice retelling childhood adventures could bring you back into focus.

One day, perhaps a decade after you’d first met, the two of you had decided to take Kara to a picnic on the other side of the castle grounds, rarely visited even by servers, let alone by you. As the girl had run with a squirrel, soft, enchanted words keeping the animal sweet as a dog, Alexandra had turned to you, trusting eyes familiar and dear. It was the solitude of the gardens that caused it, or the fragrant spring wind and warm sun wrapping around you, or even that it was simply a matter of the two of you being ready.

Regardless of the reason, your heart had felt her words before she’d spoken them.

“I love you.” Alex had said and you’d cradled her cheeks and laid your lips against hers.

The council had a fit over the line of succession.

“When the time comes, my niece will take my place if she so wishes. Until then, I have no plans of dying.”

They’d gaped and Alura had smiled.

Five blissful years had passed. In Alexandra’s eyes, it mattered not that your magic was gone, she loved you as if you were whole and you began to find enough new interests and thoughts that you started to feel just so.

It must have been the irony of fate, then, that just when you could finally see your future with perfect clarity, Sammuel Lane recuperated enough of his ego to dare propose an alignment between your kingdoms through marriage ( _again_ ).

“My successor could be a fit to yours. Both intelligent and skilled. With her brains and you girl’s powers, our legacy would be preserved worthily.” He’d written.

Kara, now sixteen years of age, was enamored with a girl called Catherine and declined the request.

Because Sammuel Lane was seemingly incapable of growth (and should have died the first time you’d clashed), he’d faced the noncompliance as an offense.

It must have been the humourless joke of the gods, that you’d fallen into yet another war and your only worry had been for your niece, sweet and far too young, but determined and honorable.

“I will fight by your side.” She’d stood firmly in front of you, hands clenched into fists.

“You will do no such thing.”

“Absolutely not.” You and your sister had said in unison.

“Am I not to lead this kingdom, these men, once Auntie is no longer here? Am I not skilled enough? Am I not at the center of the reason for this war?”

“The reason for this war is a stupid man’s thirst for blood.” Standing, Alura’s fingers trembled.

“Yes, the blood of _my_ family. I cannot standby while he attempts to claim it.” Kara’s voice had raised an octave.

“You are a fine warrior, dear, but you have never fought to harm. You refuse to even kill to feed yourself, do you really believe that you will succeed in ending another human’s life?”

“If I am to become Queen, I must be able to withstand any blow beside my own folk.” There had been a fire in her gaze you had recognized instantly. With pain in your heart and swimming in fear, you’d consented.

It never occurred to you, as you mounted your horse, that Kara would not be the one wounded.

“I’ll see you on the other side.” Alexandra had said, set to head west to comply with your battle plan. Nodding and leaning towards her, you’d kissed her like the first time. For a split second, you’d been fearful for her, but like the surety you had on her ability as a swordswoman, you had known she would return to you.

It must have been the last drop of misfortune in your cursed life that Kara would scream your name once the battle was won.

You’d just pulled your blade from a man’s rib cage, allowing his body to fall gracelessly to the stained grass. Raising your eyes for the first time in hours, you’d only seen friendly colors standing. Victory washed over you along with the ache in your joints.

Kara had called you immediately after.

She was covered in blood, body visibly shaking from yards away and everything inside you had stopped. Your girl, your niece, your beloved child, as much yours as if she’d been born of your own belly.

You were already running by the time you realized you needed to do so.

“It’s not mine, it’s not mine.” She’d shaken her head frantically when you’d dropped your gloved palms heavily on her shoulders.

The ends of her lovely hair, her beautiful long locks, were caked in dried red.

“Not yours?” You must have sounded like an infant, but you could not lose her, you could not have Kara die.

“Not mine, Auntie.” If her armor hadn’t been intact, you would not have been able to believe her, so grave was her tone.

“Then what? Kara, what is it?”

She’d taken a shaky breath, a hiccup catching in her throat.

“Alex.”

Later, you will have to force yourself to believe that the world did not tilt on its axis at that moment, for your knees buckled and your head spun.

“Where?” You’d managed to whisper.

She’d guided you, running, to a place far west on the battlefield, through a few feet of forest and behind enormous rocks.

“I placed her sitting here so I could find you. I couldn’t carry her further, I’m sorry.” Your dear niece had cried, stepping around one of the rocks.

Your love, your Alexandra, laid on her side as if fallen over, blood pooling on the hard earth.

And now here you are, watching as her lungs try to chug air and her eyes gaze unseeingly at the sky.

The walls inside of you crumble, leaving only the reminder of desperate love, so thick and vital within you.

You look at her, too far gone, and you wonder if she remembers. If she remembers the countless times she'd ran her fingertips over your skin and you’d wrapped yourself around her. You wonder if she remembers your attempts at making her laugh or the innumerous tales of life in rural Midvale. You wonder if she remembers sharing the pain of losing her father and finding comfort in your anguish at missing your mother. You wonder if she is still there, lost in her own mind and just waiting for you to bring her back, the same as she’d done for you endless times.

“I have never known serenity as pure as when I slept by your side.” You say, your heart tugging, pulling, begging, but your brain knowing that, if this is it, you must face it with the grace she deserves. “And I shall always be grateful for the gift of your presence.”

Kara sobs now, but stands guard still.

With care, you raise Alexandra’s head enough to slip your legs out from under her.

“May you travel safely.” Your breath shakes and hers slows. “May you merge your light with Rao’s.”

You gather her hands, bloody and dirty. The wound on her chest still bleeds.

“May you only know peace and bliss from now onwards.”

You place her folded hands atop her stomach. You fail to notice that the area where the enemy arrow had pierced her flesh glows unnaturally red.

“I thank you for your kindness and your care. I thank you for your years and your devotion.” Bending forward, you only see her. “Alex…” You whisper, your heart beating frantically, bumping desperately. “Alex, I thank you for your love.”

Your tears reach her face before your lips, so you press a kiss on her forehead and taste salt in your goodbye.

Closing your eyes, you hear a last struggling breath.

“I love you.” You say into her skin. “I love you.” You say, meeting her lips with your own one last time.

And they will tell this story later, the tale of this moment will outlive you and your sister and your niece. It will spread amongst the lands and be used as an example of romance. What happens, however, is a simple question of logic.

She had believed you whole and you had found a way to become so. Accidentally, you had flourished. Accidentally, you had filled the part reserved for your magic and it had blossomed in the rest of you.

What you will find later is that the witch had left a single arrow for his king, not precisely made of matter, but created and sustained by his powers, existing until his spell was broken.

Kara will later inform you that you had glowed green as you’d said Alexandra’s last hymns. You will later make sense of what happened, but at the moment, you pull away from your wife and, opening your eyes, ready to find her gone, you are startled by her lungs expanding, her mouth sucking in air.

She moves, gaze meeting yours, confused and scared, but present. Her hands fly around and you take them, lost at what this means, because she had _died._ You had felt her chest deflate. But you take her hands and you both reach down, down at the place that leaked blood. You only find a scar.

“Astra…” Your name falls from her lips and it makes you swoon.

Later, generations after you, they will tell of the women who won despite all odds. Won wars and kingdoms and, most specially, a future with each other.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, it is a true love's kiss fic. yes, it is a very beat up trope, but here's the thing: if the straights get to have overwhelmingly sweet happy endings, why tf can't we?


End file.
